


Elevator Pitch

by ForASecondThereWedWon



Series: Hunger Games Stories [1]
Category: The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Book/Movie 2: Catching Fire, Elevator Sex, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForASecondThereWedWon/pseuds/ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary: Originally posted on Fanfiction.net. An extension of the elevator scene from Catching Fire. Peeta knows Johanna's trying to intimidate them, but maybe there's a method to her madness. And maybe he wants to let her persuade him. Rated E for the kind of graphic content the Capitol might NOT want on TV.





	Elevator Pitch

Johanna’s eyes snap to his and Peeta’s brain supplies the clicking noise of one of Katniss’s arrows tapping her bow before release. Who knows what any of these fucking victors are thinking? As Katniss already stated, they all seem a little unstable.

When Johanna pushed into the elevator with them and turned her back to Peeta, asking him to unzip her costume, he knew immediately it would be an act of intimidation. He expected to see jagged scars where her back had been torn up in battle ( _You think_ you’re _tough? Look what I went through and survived_.). Or maybe firm, slender musculature roping across her shoulder blades ( _Don’t underestimate me, baker. Even the slightest among us could overpower you_ ). Or even a vicious message emblazoned on her pale skin, hateful words printed carefully on the guiding lines of her ribcage ( _It never ends, Peeta. I can’t wait to meet your corpse_ ). Peeta can’t anticipate what was happening now, but Johanna’s had years to let her tryst with serial murder twist her mind like a screw.

Johanna wrestles her way free of her outfit’s skin-tight sleeves, tearing her wrists and hands from the cuffs without breaking eye contact. Peeta struggles to avoid being pulled under by the waves of irritation flowing from the ‘fiancée’ at his side. He can always get into Katniss’s head a little better than she realizes and right now, he imagines she’s feeling the way she does when she hunts. Johanna jerks like a rabbit in a snare (Peeta’s teeth grind a little as he’s reminded that Gale taught Katniss that particular trick of the hunter’s trade) while Katniss strives for stillness and patience. Johanna flips down her bodice, unabashedly showing her breasts to the three core members of Team Star-Crossed Lovers and Peeta feels the elevator showdown tipping in the arena veteran’s favour.

Of course, he looks. Nearly a lifelong crush on the brunette to his right reached its climax with a handful of kisses that he later found out were only for the benefit of the cameras. He’s sure it would piss Katniss off to know it, but Peeta doesn’t mind a little female attention that’s honest, at least. Sure, Johanna’s trying to achieve something here, but she’s so far past the line of psychological torture that he’s starting to think she has integrity. He’s also thinking her bodice looked a lot stiffer than it apparently is, because she’s turning it down as smoothly as the blankets on his Capitol-assigned bed.

Peeta’s at war with himself. His posture locks into place like an ammunition clip as his training kicks in. Not combat training, _couple_ training. During the Victory Tour, Peeta had to read Katniss’s body language and react, always moving with her. Always together. Always an effortless dance. It used to be easy to do, but once he was brought into the loop on her lie, Peeta found it a little harder. Katniss’s spine straightens with a jerk as Johanna tugs and plucks her way towards full nudity and so Peeta mirrors the Volunteer. In this internal war, his eyes take the other side. It’s not just that he can’t look away (he can’t), but that he doesn’t want to. Johanna looks right back at him and Peeta thinks there might be a fire in this elevator that will have nothing to do with Cinna’s haute couture creations.

Johanna gets the tree suit or whatever the hell it was supposed to be (not as memorable as her bared body) all the way off and Peeta’s gaze is right there with her hands, all the way down. In the Games, you can never ignore your basest instincts. You’re thirsty? Time to find water. Hungry? Better make or acquire the tools to hunt. Peeta’s instincts are his best friend and right now they’re telling him to bury himself deep in Johanna Mason.

She winks at Haymitch, who Peeta can tell is as appreciative of what Johanna has on display as any male would be, but it’s Peeta her gaze comes back to. From the corner of his eye, Peeta can see Katniss looking rapidly between Johanna and himself like there’s a fight about to break out and it’s nearly time to intervene. He bets she’d love to save him from this. Throw herself into the breach like she did between Gale and the whip back in District 12. But this time it wouldn’t be for love. Only habit.

Peeta might be sending out a signal because Johanna picks it up, grinning wickedly. She steps close to Peeta again, but this time there’s no stupid costume to preserve decorum. Peeta fails to take himself out of Johanna’s path and Katniss’s hand closes around his wrist. It’s cold.

He glances at her briefly, the love of his life, and watches her jump back, crowding into Haymitch who puts a hand on her shoulder. In an interesting contrast, Johanna puts a hand on Peeta’s dick, bulging in the front of his precisely tailored outfit. He looks back at her, an eyebrow rising, and she’s already forcing her hand up under the length of his dark tunic, delving into the front of his pants to take his length in her bare hand.

Katniss gasps violently (the descriptor for the way she does many thing these days: stare down competitors, grip his hand, break his heart) and claws for the buttons of the elevator. Haymitch throws up his hands with a chuckle when she dives past him, as if he thinks she’s about to start groping him in the style of Johanna, and Katniss shoots Haymitch a look that says she’s had it with him.

“Oh my god,” Katniss groans when the elevator takes its time aligning with the next floor and bumping to a stop. Johanna finds a sweet spot with Peeta and he grunts, his palms sweaty and pressed behind him to the glass wall of the lift.

The door slides open and Katniss practically falls out, in retreat from human contact. Still laughing softly to himself, Haymitch follows her out. Katniss halts and turns, catching Peeta’s eye over Johanna’s naked shoulder.

“Peeta.” She says his name like a command. “Are you coming?”

Peeta glances slowly from his future to his present. A little shyly, he runs a hand up Johanna’s hip to her narrow waist.

“Peeta, what the hell!” Katniss is shouting at him now and Haymitch grabs her arm.

“You don’t want to stick around for this, sweetheart. Come on.”

He gives Katniss a little shove so she disappears from view, then bores his eyes into Peeta’s.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Yeah,” Peeta pants. “Making an alliance.”

Haymitch presses a button from the outside and the door swishes closed. Peeta hears his mentor give the outer surface two solid slaps, like a send-off. And now he and Johanna are alone.

She lunges for his face and he catches the back of her head in his hands, cradling her gently while their mouths rock in a rough kiss. The way she grasps his erection is tighter than he’s ever held himself, but he likes it. Peeta drops his hands from her neck, yanking his tunic over his head. He’s already made the decision to be committed to this, but he has to ask.

“Why?”

Johanna’s expression is ferocious.

“Because I’m _angry_ , 12.”

“Me too.”

Peeta runs a calloused palm down Johanna’s stomach, stroking to the front of her thigh, then jumping his hand up to cup between her legs. Johanna covers his hand with her own, digging her nails into the back of his fingers, and forces him to push through her growing wetness. He’s never done this before and just then he wants to laugh, he’s so glad. It wouldn’t have been about love anyway. With Katniss, it’d be another way to bow to President Snow and the Capitol. With Johanna, it’s a way to thwart them. Peeta knows which side he’d rather be on.

“What’d they do to you, 12?”

Johanna’s indignation on his behalf is fierce. Her eyes shine with the furious tears she’s barely containing. She moves close to Peeta, her nipples poking his chest an instant before her breasts compress against him. Johanna isn’t looking at him when he speaks, her hot mouth working against his neck, but Peeta knows she hears him.

“Gave me everything then took it away. And you?”

Johanna pulls away with a jerk so Peeta wraps an arm around her back, holding her flush against him. Her fingers hook into the sides of his pants and shove them down. The feel of his cock against her abdomen is intense.

“They never gave me anything at all.”

Her face cracks in a bitter smile.

“Do you think there are cameras in here?”

Her smile widens.

“In this sparkling jewel of a prison? Of course.” Johanna tucks her chin and flashes her eyes up at him. It’s sexy. “But they’ll never broadcast this.”

“Who knows? Only so many times they can replay the chariots.”

Johanna’s grinning as she flings her leg up around Peeta’s hip, wetting his cock with her arousal. She has her hands on his shoulders, ready to bounce up and mount him in midair, but Peeta stops her.

“Not like this.”

He glances around. The elevator slows and stops at the top floor, then starts to descend. Peeta jerks his chin at the floors slipping past behind them. You can see the whole inside of the tower from the elevator. And if they’re looking, they can see you. Peeta always did know how to work the cameras.

Johanna gets her foot back on the ground and rotates under Peeta’s direction. Someone pauses at a window level with the lift and stares. Johanna waves merrily at them, her breasts high and firm in Peeta’s hands as he massages them, pressing his erection against her ass. Johanna braces herself, palms to the window, and tilts forward. She spreads her toned legs wide for him and Peeta thinks there’s really no part of herself she’s embarrassed to show. He grabs her roughly by the hips and she twists her head to meet his eyes.

“Fuck them,” Peeta spits.

Johanna nods sharply and he pushes inside of her. Almost immediately, Peeta’s glad he has his roiling anger to divide his attention because the sensation is so, so good and losing himself right away wouldn’t give anybody much to watch. People cheer for the underdog, not the premature ejaculator. He drags out and drives straight back in, Johanna’s hips knocking against his. Peeta recalls that she’s in this thing too, and clearly trying to be just as active a participant as he is. He slams forward and she pushes back and it’s slick and hot and soon he can hear her moaning.

The door opens.

“Jesus Christ!” somebody yells, but Peeta doesn’t turn to see who it is. He hopes it’s one of the Careers.

The door closes.

Peeta’s watching himself piston in and out of Johanna and it’s so graphic and gooey that he smirks to himself to see it happen against the polished backdrop of the elevator. This city is the haven of order, art, and cleanliness. They have designated spaces for messy, primal acts. Peeta and Johanna have both been to those.

Ground floor.

The door opens and Peeta can hear that there’s a bit of a crowd. They’re making all the expected noises, but Peeta doesn’t try to hush his rasping breath. Johanna tosses out a lusty groan for good measure. Peeta’s eyes skim up her back and there are scars there after all. She slams her hips back into his and Peeta bits his lip, his head jerking up. He can see himself reflected in the glass. He looks a little insane.

The door’s closing and Peeta focuses on the group of people in the hall behind him. Someone steps through at the last moment and Peeta catches Finnick’s eye in their reflections.

“Peeta, Johanna.” Finnick nods at them in turn, his dimpled smile uncontainable.

“Hope we’re not making you uncomfortable,” Peeta manages to say. He’s breathing hard now, trying to hold off on his release, but Johanna isn’t fighting fair. She’s edged up onto her toes, making Peeta hold her hips more firmly, and concertedly clenching and slackening the muscles sheathing his cock.

Finnick laughs heartily, actually clapping a hand on Peeta’s shoulder.

“I murdered my way to victory through 23 other people, and you think _this_ makes me uncomfortable? I hope you’re joking.”

Peeta glances at him, grinning.

“I am.”

The lift slows.

“Well, this is me,” says Finnick casually, removing his hand from Peeta’s sweaty skin. He walks out of the elevator while Peeta tracks his reflection. “God, I wish I’d thought of this.”

The door closes.

Johanna makes to stand up straighter and Peeta’s tugged forward with her.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure they get both of us in the shot. Don’t forget to smile!”

Peeta brings an arm snuggly around her waist as Johanna presses her breasts to the glass. He’s right behind her now, his chest to her back, but he does his best to thrust hard up into her, keeping his face visible to any onlookers by leaning his chin over her shoulder.

“Any… second now…” Peeta says thickly.

“Right there with you, 12,” is Johanna’s breathy reply.

He ploughs upward, connecting with a place inside her that makes Johanna groan like she’s dying. No, Peeta thinks. Those are sounds he’s heard and Johanna’s isn’t like that. She groans like she’s _alive_. Then Peeta’s letting go with her, his hips flicking mercilessly until they’re both still, except for the shaking.

Peeta pulls out, stepping back in a daze. Katniss’s soft round face comes to mind, but it’s Johanna’s more pointed one that turns to him, her fingers tendrilling around his bicep as she takes a moment to get her balance.

She looks up at the illuminated numbers scrolling by near the ceiling. A florescent blue 6 dims and Johanna’s hand darts out to tap the wall as 7 lights up.

The door opens.

Johanna looks at him hard.

“Keep that anger, Peeta.”

He nods to her, pulling his pants back up. It’s hard to train his eyes on her now, but Johanna grabs him by the chin, making their gazes connect.

“I didn’t do this for you. You didn’t do it for me. We did it for ourselves. She should understand that.”

Peeta knows who Johanna means. He nods again and she steps out of the elevator.

“See you tomorrow at training.” Her eyes scan his body, settling on his hips. “If you’re as good with other pointed instruments, consider this alliance formed.”

The door closes.

Peeta taps the button for 12. Another stay in the penthouse. As the elevator climbs, he stoops to retrieve his tunic. Johanna’s body suit is still on the floor and Peeta brushes his fingers over it.

The door opens on 12 and Peeta walks out, leaving Johanna’s costume where it lies. A little souvenir for the Capitol.


End file.
